


Chestnut

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Faramir checks in with the stable boy.





	Chestnut

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The entire way down to the stables, he tries to think of an excuse—he’s come there far too much lately, and he has no real reason for it. By the time he’s off the stairs and through the door that connect up to the house, Faramir hasn’t thought of anything. He closes the door carefully behind himself and wades across the sea of fallen hay, to where his horse is already drawn out into the center. Brego isn’t tethered to the posts, but he doesn’t have to be. He obeys their stable boy, as all the horses do, as Faramir would if given the choice. 

Aragorn, standing at Brego’s side with a brush in hand, looks up to smile at him. That smile alone clenches Faramir’s chest—it’s radiant and _warm_ , like so little is within their household. Aragorn’s always been dizzyingly handsome for as long as Faramir can remember.

He liked Aragorn even when he was little. He needed less excuse to come here then, could say he merely wanted to play with the animals, and he had no other duty. Now he has nothing to offer Aragorn as he stops just an arm’s length away, where Brego can lean forward and sniff at the empty pockets of his coat. He should’ve brought an apple down.

Aragorn suggests for him, “Did you want to take a ride today, my lord?”

Because that’s as good a reason as any, Faramir answers, “Yes. But I can wait until you’re finished.”

Aragorn nods his thanks and continues to softly stroke the brush along Brego’s dark coat. It seems to shimmer and glisten beneath Aragorn’s meticulous attention; they have the best horses in the city, and Faramir’s not deluded as to why. With his eyes on his work, Aragorn quietly notes, “This horse is the most content within these stables, you know.” He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at Faramir, before he adds, “You are a gracious rider.”

A light flush comes across Faramir’s cheeks—he can feel it heating him. He murmurs, “Thank you,” but thinks Brego’s joy is more for Aragorn than him. All the horses love Aragorn, as do the dogs, and every other animal Faramir has ever seen interact with him. Brego is certainly an admirable steed in his own right, and it pushes Faramir to wonder aloud, “Do you... do you think he is strong enough to bear two grown men comfortably? You and me, perhaps...” which is much more than he should’ve said, and so he shuts his mouth too late. Aragorn just tilts his head thoughtfully.

“He could, I think, but not comfortably.” Pausing his attentions, Aragorn turns fully to Faramir and tells him in complete seriousness, “But I will run beside you if my lord has need of me.”

Before Faramir can stop himself, he’s blurted, “What if I have _want_ of you?”

He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not quite the small smile that tugs at Aragorn’s chiseled lips. His eyes light knowingly, and indeed, he’s always seemed wise beyond his peers to Faramir, beyond even Faramir’s father, who’s said to be far-seeing. Lowering the brush, Aragorn steps closer to him.

Faramir leans in for it, and the next thing he knows, his lips are brushing over Aragorn’s. The kiss is only chaste, quick, far too much so for two virile men of their young age. When they part afterwards, their eyes connect, and Faramir tilts forward for another.

The door he came through creaks, and it pulls him away before he’s met Aragorn again. Then the door’s open, and Boromir’s stepped through, calling over, “Faramir, father wishes to speak with us.” He gives Aragorn a small nod of acknowledgement but says no more, having no idea what he’s interrupted. The last thing Faramir wants is to face his father—he wants to stay here, saddle up his horse, and ride off with Aragorn somewhere where they might have some chance to be together.

When Faramir says, “I will be just a moment,” Boromir nods and retreats. The moment is gone, but Faramir still looks at Aragorn hopefully, like Aragorn will pull him aside and demand he stay. Though Faramir has the title, he’s always felt that Aragorn deserves one more, and he would make a good leader—one that Faramir would follow.

But Aragorn only tells him, “You had better go.”

As Faramir nods and steps away, disappointed, Aragorn adds, “And I will have Brego ready for you on your return.” He dons the same soft smile that first pulled Faramir to him, one that seers right through Faramir’s chest and seizes control of his whole heart.

He says, “Thank you,” and leaves, though not for long.


End file.
